Lincoln (2012)

I find myself becoming tired of Stephen Spielberg's recent fascination with Americana. There is something to be said for a patriot and a man who cherishes the bravery and heroism of the dead, but blatant glorification of the nation and its people becomes tiresome. His presentation of one of America's most beloved president's struggle to end slavery is decidedly one-sided, and in a film about politics this becomes its biggest error.

In the final year of the Civil War, Congress debated on whether or not to alter the Constitution with the 13th Amendment, much to the--shall we say--displeasure of many members of the legislature. It is a foundational myth of our nation that Abraham Lincoln towered above his opponents, issued stirring rhetoric, and with a zeal that warms our smug souls Congress swept the passing of the amendment while the southern states had no say. "Lincoln" attempts to break through that illusion, posing the argument that it was passed and only narrowly with intense politicking and under-the-table deals. For this, I commend Spielberg's tenacity, and that of writer Tony Kushner (Tony Award-winner for the brilliant play "Angels in America").

Daniel Day-Lewis returns from a three break in acting to don the stovepipe hat of Mr. Lincoln, a man at a crossroad. His work is typically tremendous and far different than his usual characters. Drawing on historical accounts, his very grave portrayal of the man and myth speaks with a high, thin voice that could be broken like a bird's wing. He is gaunt, stooped and his eyes hold much wisdom. Day-Lewis's power comes from his control, never doing more than necessary and never out-acting his fellow actors. What he does give is a thoughtful, measured and at times beautifully passionate portrayal of someone willing to sacrifice everything and exert the full powers of an undefined executive office to do what he feels is right.

This is not a Civil War film, though much of the drama comes from the fact that the war has gone on for so long and peace is near. The passing of the amendment must come before peace, lest the Confederate states block the vote. Therein lied the rub for Mr. Lincoln. Should he have continued the bloodiest war in our nation's history, even for another month, putting the lives of young men--including his own son--in jeopardy, or fight to make sure that the emancipated slaves remained free forever? It is a question bloated with sub-arguments about morality and the nature of God which "Lincoln"'s rather liberal running time allows it to explore.

I do not believe, however, that two and a half hours was necessary and that extensive editing of Kushner's verbose, yet elegant script was called for. Out of the life of politics, the film spends much time examining Lincoln's relationship with his wife, Molly, played by an extremely annoying Sally Fields who overacted to the degree that she could easily have fit in a telanovela. She added nothing but an extra character and their relationship revealed little about Lincoln the man. Entirely irrelevant, too, was the addition of Lincoln's son (Tom Gordon-Levitt). Pruning needed to be done.

A larger body of supporting players float in and out of Lincoln's trial, influencing his decision, but more often being influenced themselves by the president's convictions. It is a terrific ensemble of stuffy, old, white male actors who suit the film beautifully. Notable are David Strathairn as Sec. of State Steward, and an especially fine Tommy Lee Jones as the radical right-winged (meaning liberal at the time) Thaddeus Stevens, who plays his character with fiery passion with just the tiniest little wink. I certainly hope he gets an Oscar nod this year.

Though the passion of the actors shines through, there is not the affection in this film that Spielberg is noted for. The movie itself talks of grand ideas and great men of vision, but there was none of the love or cinematic spectacle which has made him one of the great Hollywood directors. It felt to me as though the film rested on our devotion to the Republican ideals of equality and justice, and our grade-school affection towards our 16th president. Indeed, the film is geared so that we see bipartisan bickering of humanist men on one side, and cold, economically driven racists on the other, but that has little to do with Spielberg and was simply an easy tool to visually divide the argument for the audience.

The ending does not culminate where it should, with the signing of the amendment (if that was a spoiler I suggest you seek out a third-grader for history lessons), but at the death of the president, which I felt was a cop out, seeking to play on the audiences' heartstrings instead of allowing us to revel in the monumental task of what happened. Presenting Lincoln as a martyr, which it effectively did, was rather tactless.

I did enjoy this movie, but that is praise solely for the actors and Kushner. I think the Spielberg needs to stop and take a moment to reflect on his work and the messages that he wants to send out in his films. Though he is a great director who has made many films which I love dearly, this was a misguided attempt to say something very meaningful. He placed all of the work on other people, sat on the shoulders of political giants who shaped American history forever, pointed a camera and called it a day. If one plans on tackling the image of Honest Abe, one must be prepared to do things as monumental as his inspiration.

2.5/4